


Disastrously Gay

by Farmulousa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference 17/21, Auror Moody, Canon Compliant, Kissing, M/M, Smoking, kind of?, sad regulus, thigh touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25241782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farmulousa/pseuds/Farmulousa
Summary: It's Regulus' 17th birthday, he's amannow. At least, his father says so. Escaping the party his mother has thrown, he runs to the only person who might have the only gift he's ever wanted. A way out.It is INSANE how quickly this materialised in my mind, as if is had always been there. Should you wish to see my face-casts for Regulus and Moody, I have popped themhere.
Relationships: Regulus Black/Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody
Comments: 12
Kudos: 32
Collections: Super Rare Summer 2020





	Disastrously Gay

“You’re a man now.” 

_ You’re a man now.  _

His Father had said it, clasping his shoulder and all but forcing a glass of dark sharp smelling alcohol into Regulus’ hand. Terror and dread warred for dominance in the pit of his stomach as he watched his Father do the rounds, mingling with other men of influence and privilege. Orion Black had had two embarrassments upon his house in the last few years. Andromeda had turned up at a family dinner with a Mudblood she intended to  _ marry  _ and then Sirius had disappeared to the Potter’s in the middle of the night. 

Regulus was completely aware that he was his Father’s last chance at a respectable outcome of the years of planning a breeding that had gone into the House of Black. Narcissa was to marry a Malfoy that year and Bellatrix was already Lady Lestrange, they would become vital cogs in  _ other _ dynasties.

Not only did Regulus feel obligation and duty far more than he felt superior to muggleborns and half-bloods, not only did he feel a sinking hole in his chest with the knowledge he was expected to  _ kill a muggleborn  _ this year but he was also very gay. 

Disastrously gay. 

So gay he felt like he could claw his own skin off when Pheobe Parkinson was forced to chat flirtily with him at a Ministry function at Christmas. The idea that he was his Father’s last hope at a true black heir, that his cousins were in some sort of race to replace him should he follow his brother into the depths of disreputable ruin, made him want to vomit on his mother’s priceless rug. 

As always at times like this, when he felt at his absolute worst and Sirius was on his mind, his brain found the opportunity to make things worse. Images of the meeting with The Dark Lord had arrived in his Father’s study to ask questions about a necklace that belonged to his mother whirled around his mind. The look in the Dark Lord’s eyes when this Father handed over the locket and the sinking feeling that enveloped the room when Lord Voldemort’s power was unleashed upon it. 

Teddy Nott, a year ahead of him in school but possibly a decade behind in brain power, clapped him on the back as he came into the parlour, knocking Regulus back into the present. He chatted absentmindedly, not recognising the glaze of horror that Regulus was sure he was doing an  _ awful  _ job of hiding. Before noticing that the Georgette Greengrass was standing alone and made a hasty, uncouth exit. 

In a stroke of luck, for about thirty seconds, all of the guests of his birthday party stood facing away from him. He took the chance for what it was and walked backwards from the room, keeping composure as he walked down the hallway and into the foyer which, blessedly, was empty. Releasing the knot of his tie and turning on his heel, he winked out of existence with only one place in mind. 

The dark wooden shop front of what Regulus believed to be a muggle Bookmakers near Stoke Newington, was easily the worst smelling building he had ever stood in. The foul reek of muggle cigarettes and pipe tobacco that would have been removed with cleaning charms in his world, lingered in the air. The room was thick with a head height layer of fog which was probably just as well as he was a seventeen-year-old boy in a full black wool suit and the stares he would have received should he be visible might have stopped him from his destination. 

A door to a back room opened somewhere and a cloud of the acrid smoke cleared for a second revealing the jawline Regulus had been searching for. It was the jawline that filled his dreams and his afternoon fantasies. It was a jawline his lips remembered the taste of. 

Alastor Moody, with a muggle cigarette in the side of his mouth and his scruffy hair tied up with a pencil, was perfection. The scruff of his stubble and glint of the earring in one ear signalled Regulus like a siren. Catching each other’s eye, the Auror’s warm bronze irises flashed in surprise before looking away again. 

For a moment, Regulus thought he was being rejected. 

Four months ago, when Regulus had been found at a gathering of Death Eaters, as the only person not of age there he had to be accompanied by an Auror home when they had been disbanded. At the time, he thought the only thing worse than the mortification was the relief that the meeting was  _ over.  _ Alastor, who had left Hogwarts already and was into his first official year as an Auror, had taken him by the scruff of the neck and side-along apparated them to this very bookmakers. 

They had sat in silence for a long time; sat next to a muggle radio as Alastor swore under his breath and poured over a muggle newspaper. By the time Regulus worked up the nerve to ask  _ why  _ they were there, Moody had launched into a speech. 

_ “It seems to me Reg, that you have a lot of options.” Alastor noted breezily, ignoring Regulus’ scoff. “You have more money than a fucking dragon, you’re young and healthy and you have a brother who is willing to bribe an Auror to keep you off the Ministry’s books.” He paused to take a drag from the cigarette hanging from his lips and Regulus watched as the older man’s cheek’s hollowed, making his stomach twist and flatten. “You probably know more about fucking Voldemort than any Order member, you could be the greatest force for good that we have.”  _

When he had eventually returned home that evening, his Father had been so  _ proud  _ that he had evaded the Aurors that he hadn’t even been questioned where he’d been for two hours. Which was incredibly lucky because where he had been was in the back of the bookmakers with Moody’s hand on his thigh before being kissed breathless in an alley nearby. 

Eventually, Moody looked up at him and made a face that indicated that he should have sat down already. Sliding into the booth next to Alastor and avoiding all personal contact; his heart started to thud so loudly he had to struggle to hear the commentary on the radio. Moody had gone back to carefully reading columns of numbers from the newspaper and when several men groaned around the room, the Auror made a hiss of apparent victory before turning to look deep into Regulus’ eyes. 

It had been weeks, months, since the warmth of Moody’s palm had bled through his trousers and branded him. Several times Regulus had had to check for marks on his skin because even days later, it was as if the heavy weight of the man’s large hand was still on him. 

“Al.” Reg choked out, the tears he had felt in his parents' parlour fighting back through to the service. 

“Reg.” Moody said softly, his hand curling around the bend of Regulus’ knee. He felt the dull muffled wall of a notice-me-not rise over their heads and the display of non-verbal  _ wandless _ magic made his chest squeeze tight before releasing. Breathing out he watched the flyaway hairs that weren’t tied in the knot on Moody’s head scatter in the breeze it created. 

“I know what I need to do.” Regulus whispered, strangled by the duty he was abandoning. “I need-”

Alastor launched at him, his pillowy lips smashing into his own before they both relaxed into one another entirely. The hand that was on his knee tightened before smoothing upwards towards Regulus’ thigh. A small, embarrassing, squeak sounded in the back of Regulus’ throat and he felt Alastor grin against his lips. Taking the opportunity to lean back and gain some equilibrium, he watched a pink hue roll over the other man’s face in stark contrast to the rough exterior that Moody maintained. 

“You can’t ever tell me, okay?” Al breathed, leaning in against to kiss Regulus’ cheek and then nip at his jaw. Whispering in his ear in a harsher tone, “okay?”

“Okay, yes.” Regulus whined a little, humiliated with his lack of control over his vocal chords. “Okay.” 


End file.
